VICKI SANK BACK IN her chair, gingerly congratulating herself. The gates of heaven creaked open a bit on their hinges.
“Yes, this is primarily a personality job,” said Miss Benson. “But don’t get your hopes up too high. Only thirty-five out of every thousand applicants are found acceptable for training, and then you have to pass your training exams, and a physical examination nearly as stringent as a pilot’s. Besides ...” She hesitated ominously, studying Vicki’s application again, and fell silent.
Vicki’s heart almost stopped beating. Now what was wrong?
“No, my dear. No. You’re definitely not qualified. You’re too young. We don’t take anyone under twenty-one.
“But—but—but—I’m almost twenty-one, I’ll be twenty-one in a few months. I’m mature for my age.”
Miss Benson shook her head. “
